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1.
Genesis darted down the corridor, footfalls light. She clutched the oval canister to her stomach and quickly looked around. Had to move fast. Warp speed fast. She scanned around the corner, looking for something that didn’t belong. Suddenly, something grabbed both her shoulders from behind her.
She shrieked, then brought her hand up to cover her mouth. She turned around, canister in hand, and swung it.
“Ouch! Careful with that thing!” Caleb remarked in a hushed voice, rubbing one of his shoulders. “I’m telling if I have to go to sickbay over this.”
“Yeah, yeah. You still owe me a lesson on how to turn a toothbrush into a shiv, you know,” Genesis, laughing and pursing her lips. “Natural consequence for sneaking up on me!”
“Any luck on the warp slug?”
“Yes, I actually got it after we were able to freeze it. Thanks for your help with that, by the way,” she gave a pointed look and smirked. He widened his stride until he was walking next to her. Genesis tossed the closed canister at him.
“Rude. I’m literally a casualty right now. My arm is injured.”
“Hm.” She smirked again. “Tough luck. Good thing we’re already on our way to sickbay.”
“Ouch, Captain Lythe. Not very compassionate for your crew here.”
“Ha, ha,” she said sarcastically. They walked into sickbay and Caleb placed the warp slug back in the closed cabinet. “I’m sure you’ll live,” Genesis continued and grinned mischievously again. She quickly glanced at his face, punched his other shoulder playfully, and took off running. “Now you’re even! Sorry!” cackling down the hall.
2.
After being reprimanded (0 hours of menial labor later)
They walked out the Chancellor’s Office. He looked at the shorter girl in front of him. Her shoulders, usually poised and unflappable, were rounded over. Her left hand twitched, and she grabbed it with her other hand in front of her. He reached out to steady both hands and pulled the two of them against the wall of the corridor. When did he get so soft?
“Caleb, I’m sorry,” she blurted out, pulling away and reaching her hands up to her head. Her fingers worked down to the long ends of her hair.
He shrugged. “I already had menial labor from the first week of the semester when I saved the entire school and Nahla punished me for it.”
“Not for -”
“And you’re right, I do have a D in exo-chem so I’ll probably be on academic probation soon.”
“No you won’t. You’re sleeping in class but you know it. I’m sorry, for involving you in all of this. She looked physically pained, eyes pleading.
He shrugged. No skin off his back.
3.
3 weeks later (45 hours of menial labor later)
Luckily, even with the new semester schedule, Genesis and her friends still shared a common lunch time. Sitting with her friends (it still made her smile to think of that word) reminded her of high school, but in high school, she worked, tutored, and studied through her lunch period. No time wasted, and avoiding the cafeteria and half the school’s eyes on her didn’t hurt. Maybe it was just her father’s voice in her head, but maybe the teens were all watching her, waiting for any slip-up to gleefully report to their parents about their commanding officer’s daughter.
She walked towards their circular table. Caleb, Darem, and Jay’Den sat, plates in front of them.
“Hey dudes,” she greeted as she sat next to Darem, across from Caleb.
“Never say that again,” Caleb replied as Darem cut in “Dude? Two weeks ago I was ruler of a planet.”
Genesis rolled her eyes and smiled, matching the upper twitch of Jay’Den’s mouth. “And three weeks ago, you almost got beat up in a bar fight with the War College.”
Jay’Den blinked in silent agreement. “You engage in physical conflict… often, Darem.”
Darem shrugged. “I think people just get intimidated when they see my peak physique.”
Caleb groaned, “Never say that again, either.”
“Ugh, look.” Darem scoffed. “War College.” Dzolo, Kyle, and a few others stood at a table at the far end of the cafeteria, putting their bags down. The other three cadets looked up. “What are they even doing here?”
“Eating, probably,” Genesis quipped back.
Jay’Den stood with his mostly empty tray. “I am going to say hello to Kyle. I will see you in Xenoanthropology later.”
Darem gaped as Jay’Den walked away. “Now - wait here-” abandoning his tray on the table as he jogged after Jay’Den.
Genesis made a face at the tray. “He was royalty for less than two hours, but acts like the royal servants followed him here.”
“He was like that before he became royalty,” Caleb muttered, and they both snickered. Genesis kept eating her salad, while Caleb picked at the last pieces of pasta on his plate. The two of them were in a comfortable silence, having spent several weekends cleaning and doing other minute - some would say menial - tasks together. Genesis couldn’t lie and say she didn’t feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up sometimes, and she would turn and see Caleb staring at her and then avert his eyes. As she speared some salmon and salad greens on her fork, she felt a tingle through her brows and glanced up again to see Caleb gazing down at her. She turned her gaze downward again as she chewed the forkful, and met Caleb’s gaze after.
“So, we never really talked about the fact that Nus Braka was on our ship again.” She really did want to talk about it - it felt hard to bring up anything about the Miyazaki, and it felt wrong to talk about anything that happened on the Athena at the same time, especially if it didn’t involve life-threatening telepathy. She had to admit it wasn’t her smoothest change of topic.
“Ugh, yeah. Sore subject,” he gritted his teeth, and looked away from her.
“I’m sorry,” even though she was a little pleased with the change in conversation. She gathered more salad on her fork, and looked at him as she chewed. They sat in quiet again as she continued to eat. “I guess he was like, right in Chancellor Ake’s ready room.”
“Still too close to me,” Caleb muttered. “And what do you mean ‘I guess?’ Weren’t you standing like a quarter of a meter away from the ready room?”
“I mean, yeah, but it’s not a freaking greenhouse with glass walls! We didn’t have a live feed of the ready room to the main viewscreen!” She exclaimed. Caleb chuckled. Genesis joined in, but raised an eyebrow at him. “Did he happen to mention anything about-”
“No,” Caleb cut her off.
“You don’t know what I was going to ask.”
“I do, and I don’t want to think about it right now. I already bitched Nahla out about it. That’s actually why she let me stay here over the break.”
“Hm. So by that logic, he’s responsible for your menial labor and probation.”
“Great. Another reason to hate that guy.” He leaned back in his chair.
Genesis shifted and crossed her legs while sitting. Her conscience felt heavy when she thought about dragging her friend down with her. “So he didn’t tell her anything about your mom? About where she went after they left that planet?”
Caleb leaned forward and smacked the table gently with his palm. “What the fuck, Genesis?”
Her heavy conscience slunk up into her throat and she tried to swallow it down with bluntness, to push it down and seal a heavy lid on top of it. “Sorry, but I know you’ve been thinking about it, and I also know that, I don’t know, maybe you wanted someone to talk to about it who already sort of knows since T- since, you know, we’re friends, or at least have spent a quantifiable amount of hours together.” As Caleb opened his mouth to protest she added, “And I know you’ve been thinking about it because when we had to reformat all the wall consoles earlier, I saw you searching for star charts and transport logs.”
He glared at her. He had accessed those when she was several meters away, working on a different section. He cursed her claimed, now confirmed, superior eyesight. He felt the familiar fever rush through his chest. Before coming to the Academy, when he felt that blaze, he knew it was time to fight for his life. He knew it was then or never. Since that day with Tarima, he felt the rush again, felt like it was time to fight for his life, except he was with someone he loved in bed and not in a prison cell.
He pushed his chair away from the table and learned forward. “Why would I tell you when you aren’t honest with me?” He glared, the way he would when daring an opponent to cross him.
She put her fork down in surprise. Her lips pursed together, ends turning downwards. She wiped her hands with a napkin, and reached out to him. “I didn’t know you were still mad about that. I’m sorry. But I did confide in you! Even from the first day we met. I’ve been honest.”
He pulled his hand away and stood up with his backpack. “I’m not mad. But like I said. It’s hard to open up to people. The last few times I did, it didn’t turn out great. So forgive me if I don’t want to talk about this right now.” He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder, turned, and walked towards the exit facing the atrium.
Genesis watched him leave, until he was out of eyeline. She glanced across the cafeteria, to see if there was any chance the other two boys saw Caleb’s exit. She was relieved to see them sitting with backs facing her. She poked at the last pieces of her lunch, and the savory croutons she had kept for one last delicious bite. Through her adolescence, she tried not to eat added sodium chloride, her old coaches’ monologues about it echoing in her head. Since coming to Earth, it was hard to avoid it and resist it, and she looked forward to the little quotas she included in her meals each day.
Her stomach turned. The guilt, the conscience she had tampered down with honesty, leaning on the defense she knew well, sunk to the bottom of her gut. Leaving the rest of her lunch on the plate, including the croutons, she gathered the trays left on the table, placed the plate on top, and dumped it all in the matter recycler.
4.
Same day, evening (46.5 hours of menial labor later)
“I’m sorry about earlier.” Genesis wrung out the cloth she was using to wipe the windows.
“Why do you keep apologizing?” He continued swinging the mop around, voice deep and heavy.
“About all of it. I’m sorry that you feel like you can’t trust me now. Or like, tell me things.” She looked back at his reflection in the window.
“I didn’t tell you much before. I don’t tell anyone much,” he grumbled. He thought of the field of warm yellow flowers, and turned to face her. She saw him turn in the window, and matched his movement, contemplative gaze in her eyes.
He took a deep breath and planted the mop against the ground. “I don’t really care about the involvement. I don’t care about the punishment. What pisses me off is that I feel like a tool. All my life, I… I had to take advantage of what little self-agency I got. People have tried to use me for their benefit before. I don’t buy all this Starfleet bullshit, but I was hoping I could shrug that off a bit here. That I could let my guard down. And you’re as Starfleet as they come. You made that very clear in more ways than one that day.”
“I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry I made you feel like that.” She stepped towards him.
“Are you, or is that what they teach you to say in Model Federation?”
She stopped. “I- what? Caleb-” She suddenly felt like her head was underwater.
“Like, do you actually want to know, or are you going to try to use my family shit to blackmail information? That’s what’s going on in my head.”
Her face actually widened and then broke at that one. He dunked the mop in the bucket, and walked down the hallway. Her oldest and most rued friend, her conscience, rose up in her stomach.
“Hey!” She called after him, picking up to a jog. “Hey. I’m sorry. Like I said. But that’s not fair. You think that because I grew up in Starfleet, I don’t have feelings? I don’t care? I know that’s what you think about them.
“You’re not hearing what I’m saying.”
Growing up on her dad’s ship, she learned which words cut to the jugular, and when she should use them. She also learned that proverbial insects were easier caught with fructose than acetic acid. She knew the power of choosing words. It could mean, sometimes, the difference between a war and a negotiation. She drew in a breath as she kept jogging after him, forcing down the flames in her stomach.
“I care. You know I do. I told you that, during break. About how scared I am? About people knowing how much I care?”
He scoffed. “About what people think.”
“Yes. Exactly.” She had finally caught up to him.
Ok, Genesis. Here’s what it is.” He stopped abruptly and turned towards her. Her back was facing the wall of the hallway. “This whole semester, I thought you were… some intense, studious, student.” She cocked an eyebrow at that, and he waved a hand. “You wake up at 4 am to work out- I know it’s 3:30, Darem has told me, -you somehow got me to join a sports team. You got Darem Reymi to admit that he was wrong more than once, and you’re at the top of our class. Textbook.”
He pressed his pointer finger and thumb together to emphasize. “Then, you show up, joking around, wanting to play silly games. Acting like you like hanging out with me, but really, you just want to use me to get to the bridge, to do something that could get you court martialed! You ask me why I care that you were about to fuck up your life! I care because you got me involved, under false pretenses! Say what you want about me, but I have always been upfront about who I am. I may not share a lot about my background, but I have always. Been myself.” He took another step towards her.
“I have too! I’m trying. I’m trying to be myself. I am trying my hardest to fit in. That’s who… That’s who I am.” Her back hit the wall.
“I tried asking you. Few weeks ago, when we were polishing the lights. I opened up to you when you asked. You deflected like a pro when I asked. Then you said today, in the cafeteria, that you’ve been honest with me. I think you tell the truth. But I’ve always been me. I feel confused about who you are.”
Sometimes Genesis didn’t recognize herself in the mirror, or she looked down at the essays she’d written or the tests she’d completed like it was the first time she saw them. Over the past three weeks, she’d gone to class, with tangible proof that she had been there through her notes, but nothing stuck in her brain. Before, she knew why she was in each class. To become a captain. She knew why she was there. To become a captain. She knew why she was. To become a captain. Since losing that, every time she introduced herself, wrote her name, heard herself speak, felt like a facade, like something was missing from the end that everyone was waiting to hear.
She feels confused about who she is too. She used to know. She gathered her hands to her forehead, took a deep breath, and exhaled again. As her body grounded against the wall and she looked up at Caleb, his posture also softened.
“You said it’s hard to let people in. To see all the shit you’ve done. And you’re right. So I’m sorry for making it harder.” She spoke slowly. “I…” She squeezed her eyes tight. “I feel confused too. I can be really good at compartmentalizing on a mission or task. I’ll do whatever it takes to get it done, and get it done well.” Caleb nodded, agreeing that that was true. “It’s like a mask, or like armor, I guess. When I don’t have a mission, or something to do, I feel like I don’t have anything. Like exposed. And that’s scary. So I’m sorry. I would never use your family shit to blackmail you. Or think of you differently because of it. I swear. That… I know what that feels like. And I really did like hanging out with you.”
He averted his gaze up to the ceiling light, before exhaling, “Well, that’s a relief, because we still have 155 hours of labor left.” He stared at her brown eyes, looked at her golden brows, the honey amber braids on her head. “I liked hanging out with you too. I know it’s hard to let people in.” He beckoned towards the mop bucket behind them. He took a deep breath and a chance, grabbing Genesis’ arm by the elbow and pulling her in the direction they started from. As she walked with him but withdrew her arm, he looked at her. “Do you feel like you still have the armor up now?”
She shook her head. “And that’s worse.”
“I get that.” They stood back at the mop bucket, the room standardly illuminated except on the side with the windows. The moon shone bright. They looked at each other. Genesis bit her lip and looked down. She looked so… So? Caleb thought to himself, and shook his head. He stepped closer to her.
“Maybe we should make a deal. When we’re doing this,” he gestures to the mop bucket, “We try not to have the armor up. I mean, we have 155 hours left. We can try to get more used to being… exposed.” He stepped a bit closer, angling his body near her shoulder, pulling her into a hug.
She leaned in. He put gentle pressure on her arm and shoulder, offering to take her full weight against his. She was resistant to the movement, and Caleb felt the strength of the muscles hidden under her agile frame. She was different but also so similar, he thought, from Tar-
“I think that’s exactly what Tarima would say,” she declared, shifting her weight and stepping away from him. “I’ll try if you do.”
He studied her, looking for sincerity after her abrupt movement. He crossed his arms as their eyes met again, and she reached a hand out to his shoulder. “I will,” she repeated.
“Ok. You’re the one who said you never lose.”
+1.
100 hours of menial labor later
Sam ran into the cafeteria where her organic friends were eating. “Guys! There is a new bar that’s opening on campus. I think we should go, and Caleb, you can help with my programming again, but I’ll make better choices?”
They laughed, and Darem commented “Yeah, I heard about that place. We need to mark our territory before those War Collegers do.”
“Mark our territory? Ew, Darem,” Genesis deadpanned, taking another bite of lunch.
“Well, sounds like we should go out tonight,” Caleb remarks. Sam jumped up and down, clapping her hands.
“Genesis, what did you think of this new place when you went? Should we try it tonight?” Sam asked. Caleb’s and Darem’s heads swiveled.
“Wait-” Darem pointed a finger at Genesis.
“But you said it just opened-” Caleb crinkled his forehead. Genesis blinked, innocently alternating eye contact between both boys.
“Didn’t we go through this last time, when we went to The Academy for Cadet Night?” She threw her arms in mock frustration. “A planet is a lot bigger than a starbase, and more fun to explore.”
“I might remember…” Caleb protested.
“I believe your exact words were: ‘How did I not know you were this cool?’” Jay’Den cut in, not able to miss a chance to tease his friend. Genesis threw her arms up again, before looking at Sam and both girls laughing. Caleb scowled.
“Hey, see, I’ve always been cool!” Genesis laughed towards Caleb. “It’s not my fault it took you this long to notice.”
“You just haven’t been paying attention!” Sam added.
Darem continued to grumble good naturedly. Caleb nodded again and said, “No, no, you’re right. I’m sorry I doubted your coolness.”
Genesis laughed. “I accept your apology. As long as you don’t forget it again.” Sam stuck her hand out after Genesis said that and the girls wiggled their fingers in unison.
Jay’Den clapped Caleb and Darem on the back, before grabbing his tray and heading towards the matter recycler. Genesis stared at Darem, and he stared blankly back, until Sam said “Darem, she wants you to clean up your tray. You often leave it.” At Darem’s indignant look, she continued, “It’s true - why else would I know how to use the matter recycler when I don’t even eat? Let’s go.” She grabbed him by the shoulder and started pulling him towards the recycler.
“Bloody hell let me at least get my feet under me first!” Darem yelped as he grabbed his tray and moved with Sam, away from the table.
Genesis smiled and shook her head. Caleb put his elbows on the table, lowering his head so it met her eyeline. “Hey.” He nudged her foot under the table. “I promise I won’t forget you’re cool again. It’s pretty hard to forget.”
Genesis rolled her eyes. “Caleb…” Her voice was light, but her tone hardened ever so slightly at the end. She looked up before looking back at him, where he raised an eyebrow and grinned cheekily at her. She smiled back. “Well, thanks. You better not forget. I have 100 hours still, to remind you.” And with that, she stood from her chair, grabbed her tray, and headed towards the door, basking in the feeling the attention left bubbling inside her.